you can't fix it, it was her last chance
by bobbingformangos
Summary: Because, Emma, look at what you did. Really, look at what you did. You might as well have pulled out her heart and crushed it because by the look of her face that night in Grannys, that would have hurt a lot less.


**swan queen. **

**unedited. raw. **

There is a block in your head and you wonder when it will go away. You thought you saved the day, that you actually did something useful, but you remember that one foster mother that you had for years who would always, without hesitation, look down on your with the most disappointed face while pointing and sneering, "Now look what you did."

Because, Emma, look at what you did.

Really, look at what you did.

You might as well have pulled out her heart and crushed it because by the look of her face that night in Grannys, that would have hurt a lot less.

Except its all said and done and look what you did, you broke a broken woman.

When all you wanted was to save lives and bring people happiness and maybe settle for something resembling a small happiness for yourself.

Except, you should know by now that happiness is too much to ask for and stability has always been out of the question and despite finding your home, it doesn't mean that is where you belong, because you even fuck things up there.

"You're a fuck up," your foster mother would whisper to you, ten bars in her hand and held to her mouth as she shakes her head at you. "You are worthless, Emma, get out of my sight."

And that is what plays in your head after Regina leaves Grannys.

Those words are what plays in your head the following day and the day after and when your son suggests an apartment to live in, you suggest he goes spend the rest of the week with his mom.

He thinks you're looking out for her.

In a way, you are.

But really, you are locking yourself inside the bedroom at the top of the loft with the door locked and your body hidden under the covers, clutching a blanket the same foster mother gave you, and you cried. You cried for broken hearts and for fucking up and for never being good enough for anyone. You were worthless, you should have known.

Hook calls, where the fuck he learned to use a cell phone, you don't know.

You parents are too busy with a kid that they named after a guy who was as fucked up as you - and you wonder if they ever thought of standing up for your honor, for the way he treated you when you were a kid but then you stop that thought because they wouldn't do anything except name their baby after him.

You kept your mouth closed about that.

Instead, now, your mouth is partly open and sobs still sliding out of your parted lips into the blanket and its been a few days and you should go check on her, go apologize to her, go tell her that you only wanted to see her happy because the way her eyes light up and the scar on her lips stretches is so beautiful. Because you have noticed, Emma, and you can't deny.

When it comes to Regina, you notice it all.

* * *

You're resilient and you are a fighter and you were much more than what people thought you were. You survived being thrown away and being abused and being left in closets for days and foster dads with wandering hands and getting pregnant and thrown into jail and you survived giving up a perfect baby boy and searching for something in you to keep going on and you kept going on, Emma.

So, that's why you got out of the bed.

It was the middle of the night.

Everything always happened in the middle of the night but you felt the strongest then and the bravest. You had no inhibitions the moment you wiped away the tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt and your hiccups went away the moment that you slipped on black leggings and you were climbing out the window onto the fire escape within moments.

And you didn't climb into your car.

You didn't know why but you ran, barefoot and hair slipping out of your pony tale, and you ran as fast as you could across the streets to her street and you knew that you had to make it better.

Because you weren't worthless and you never meant to hurt her and you knew from a very early moment that you cared deeply about Regina Mills and her happiness.

And that you were Emma Swan, and you were still learning to express yourself to people.

You think of home as you run down the dark streets and you think about how your son brought you home and about how your heart thumped against your chest when Regina threw open the door disheveled and worried about a son who ran away.

You think of the warmth you felt.

For a tiny moment.

And you think of the warmth you feel when you are around her.

That catches you on fire.

And you finally knew it, finally accepted it, the moment you ran through the gate of the white mansion.

* * *

"You're my home," you push out of lips that are still heaving with breaths from achy lungs. You can barely breathe and your feet are hurting and half of your hair came out but you didn't care because Regina was standing in front of you, shock on her face and her silk robe slightly open to her step ford wife pajamas and her hair slightly tousled.

Her eyes are red and there are imprints on her cheeks from crumpled sheets and she still looks at you with intense disappointment.

But you let it slip out again, your hand on your chest to sooth the burning, "You're my home."

And that knocks her out of her head and a scowl comes onto her face and you had hurt her heart when you had saved a woman who was going to die at the will of a queen who really wasn't as evil as the moniker lead others to believe (she was heartbroken and just broken and you could understand that).

"Excuse me, Miss Swan," Regina hisses, the string of words already stinging you as she steps forward onto the porch and into the cold weather and you could see the goosebumps rising up along her exposed collarbone and you want to keep her warm.

God fucking damnit, Emma, you wanted to keep Regina warm.

"You are not welcome here, leave," Regina said, as if she didn't hear the words home and my in the same sentence. "You are not welcome anywhere around me."

And her words, you noticed, weren't laced with a threat but with a deep hopelessness that sounded similar to anger but you knew that tone, you knew the feeling all too well.

So when you shook your head and stepped forward, Regina scowled but you were suddenly pressed into her and your heart was beating near hers and you wondered if your magic could speak for you, if the buzz of your heart could convey the words you were trying to express, and then Regina started to cry and her hands came up to push at your collarbone but instead she just scratched at it, digging in her nails.

"You ruined it," Regina's face scrunched up and you have never seen such a sad face on anyone and this one broke your heart. "You ruin everything, Emma."

And you think of your foster mother whom you loved and you were sure, without the drugs and the tiny colorful pills, she would have loved you too.

But you knew that your foster mother meant those words most the time and Regina, well, Regina was upset and didn't mean them.

So you wrapped your arms around her small frame and she had always seemed so much better to you but Regina really wasn't and that made you hold her tighter.

And you nodded your head against the side of her head. You could hear her grit her teeth and her nails dug harder but she didn't push you away. Instead, you whispered, "I did, I did. I'm sorry, I did. Let me fix it, let me make it better."

You are pleading with words that tumble from your lips and she's shaking her head in the negative against your head, her hair tickling your nose, but you hold tighter and whisper louder.

"You can't fix it," Regina cries and you feel the first tear of her's against your skin and you never believed that you would be able to hold her in any type of way. But you should have known, a part of you that is so in tune with fate and the universe, that the two of you were born to fuck each other one way or another and you hoped that love would lead the way. She sobbed once more, her breath hot against your skin, "It was my last chance."

And she believed that and you believed something better.

So you said with conviction, "You're my home."

Because home was what was important to you and you held her like she was much more than a home and you inhaled, urging your heart to jump into her chest so that Regina could feel everything that you were feeling.

Instead she shook her head and you put your hand to her hair and you whispered, this time in her ear, "Don't you see it? Haven't you realized it? Fuck, Regina, we're so blind."

Your words were like missing puzzle pieces to a puzzle neither knew was being put together. The puzzle, the puzzle that belonged to Regina and Emma (the savior and the sorceress, the princess and the queen, the mom and the ma), wasn't nearly finished. The photo still quite unclear. But it was to the point where you were just learning what the main focus was, that the two of you were the subjects of the photo being put together.

So your words did their own magic and sunk into Regina's heart, a heart ready and thriving and hurting, and they planted inside as if they were seeds. And they needed to be nourished and loved and cared for and watered.

So, with your next words you water them, cementing them into her heart so that she can realize, "I'm your home too. It's always been us, everything that's happened up to this point, has always pushed us closer and closer. How could we have been so blind?"

And you probably are rambling and you are probably not making sense but the seeds were watered and Regina's nails didn't dig into your skin and her fingers were caressing the angry, bloodied cuts were she dug into and she must have understood somewhat too.

She must have understood what you were feeling and seeing and accepting.

"Oh," she whispers against your skin.

Oh.

Such an inelegant and unqueenly thing to say, she was speechless.

It was the middle of the night and you two were high on emotions and exhausted.

So she pulled away, but not letting go, because she was processing and trying to understand and there was something she understood, you could see it in her eyes, but you knew that people didn't suck in that information after such heart ache.

So you give her a small smile.

Tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

And you sigh, "What I'm saying, Regina, is that we have hope and we shouldn't forget that."

And she offers you a small smile at that. There is color on her cheeks, a light pink under olive tone skin, and she gives a little nod as she walks backwards into the house, pulling you along.

And her voice is husky and small as she reminds you, "And you have a home."

And you did.

It'll take time to get used to. She had a guest room and you had a blanket to bring over. She offered you space and you offered her hope and together you offered each other words that watered seeds in a heart that eventually, one day, grew into a beautiful garden.

Yes, Emma Swan, your puzzle finally came together.

And having a home looked good on you.


End file.
